


Tales of the Week

by adjit



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ML week, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5280719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjit/pseuds/adjit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story a day, based on prompts from mlstaffappreciationweek.tumblr.com for MLWeek!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is also posted on my blog: polkadottedluckycharm.tumblr.com !

_She watched as the ground crumbled beneath their feet, and as she nimbly leaped out of the way she barely glanced back to make sure her partner did as well, trusting his abilities to save him as they had saved her countless times. But when she turns around, he’s hanging by a single finger, and then he’s falling and she’s diving after him but she’s too slow, too late, too weak, and she can’t save him, she can’t do anything but scream his name as they both plummet into a dark void and as they’re swallowed she only has time to regret she never reached him before-_

Marinette jolts awake, shivering violently, and takes a deep breath. She sits up, swiping at the tear tracks on her face, trying to ground herself.

Just a dream. Not a memory, not reality. A dream.

The door to her room creaks open and she tenses, eyes wild as they adjust to the stream of light fighting its way into her room. The silhouette revealed in the doorway seems threatening and for a wild moment Marinette’s mind flashes back to the villain in her dream and finds herself shaking again, angry tears welling up.

But then the figure steps into her room with a whispered “Marinette?” and she realizes it’s not a villain, it’s her mother.

“Huh? What’re you doing awake?” Marinette’s voice is waterlogged even in her whisper, and the harsh sound makes her cringe.

Sabine closes the door, padding over to sit on the edge of the bed near Marinette. Her face can’t be seen, but her voice is obviously concerned. “I heard you shouting. Have you been crying?”

Marinette flushes in shame, glad the darkness covers her expression. “It was just a dream. I’m sorry for waking you.”

Sabine is still for a moment, and then she moves again, reaching forward to envelop Marinette in a crushing hug, holding her close and stroking her hair. Marinette is tense at first, not wanting her mother to feel her shaking, but she realizes her voice had already betrayed her and so she relaxes into the embrace, snuggling close to her mother’s warmth. She offers another “Sorry,” but she can feel her mother shake it off, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Try to sleep again, okay? I’ll stay here,” Sabine offers, and though Marinette hasn’t fallen asleep in her parent’s embrace since she was a child, she accepts the comfort and allows the reassuring presence of her mother, the loving stroking of her hair, and the safe feeling of her mother’s arms lull her into a secure, dreamless sleep.

Sabine quietly pulls away, bringing the covers up and around her daughter in a cocoon of warmth, hoping they offer some comfort. She looks down at the sleeping figure with worry, wanting to soothe whatever worries were plaguing her daughter but knowing that she would come to her, if she could. So instead she offers whatever she can to help: a hug when needed, soft words if necessary, and endless support. She tiptoes out of the room, looking back at her daughter, now sleeping peacefully, for one more moment before closing the door on the way out.


	2. Friendship/Family

Adrien crossed his arms, looking around the decadent room uncomfortably. He tried to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. The perks of being a child included being no more than 4 feet tall, so the first part wasn’t particularly hard. The disadvantages of being a child included being adorable, so the second part was impossible. Adults from all over the room would stop to coo at him before asking him about his father, and Adrien had never felt more uncomfortable. He would smile and be as polite as possible, because that’s what he was supposed to do. He wanted to do what was expected of him. But every time a stranger felt the need to ruffle his hair or call him overly affectionate names he was seized with the urge to rip off the suit and run far, far away.

But he didn’t. He just dealt with being the only child in the room as calmly as possible, making sure he would wait for them to leave before making faces and wiping his cheeks off, and daydreaming of the time when he would get to go _home_. Until then, he could deal with being the only kid in a sea of adults.

Until one day, he wasn’t. He saw her as soon as she entered the room. Or, heard, really. A commotion began as soon as she walked in, and drew his eyes to see what was happening. And he saw a little girl. She was tugging on an important-looking man’s hand, clad in the poofiest yellow dress he had ever seen, and yelling indignantly. But he didn’t notice any of that, not really, because she was a kid, too. He wanted to run over to her, but he was seized with a sudden surge of shyness. He had never played with anyone before, what if she thought he was weird? What if she hated him?

So he stayed where he was supposed to, going where he was told. But he kept an eye on her, watching as she basked in the attention that usually made him shrink back. At one point in the night she made eye contact with him and had immediately started pulling her father his direction. He glanced at Nathalie guiltily, wondering how she’d react to this, but she was looking elsewhere, and the girl was already halfway across the room.

As she finally burst through a group of people, she ran to him and flung her arms around his neck, planting a huge kiss on his cheek. “Adrien! I was expecting a boring pale boy, but you’re okay.”

Adrien was taken aback, his initial fears completely dissipated in the face of this greeting. He looked to Nathalie for guidance, but she was now conversing with the man he had seen the girl hanging on earlier. So he just looked at the girl. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“I’m Chloe Bourgeois. My dad told me about you. I didn’t want to meet you, because you sounded boring, but now I’ve changed my mind. You’re allowed to be my friend.” She pulled him closer then, squeezing him as hard as her tiny arms could. The gauzy ruffles of her dress kept them some distance apart, but it was closer contact than he had received in a long time. He remained motionless in her arms, not returning the embrace, but not rejecting it either. His eyes widened at the last word.

“Friend? Seriously?” he asked, and the girl pulled back with a grin.

“Hm. On one condition!” she announced, holding up one finger for emphasis. “We’re getting married when we get older.”

“Huh?” Adrien wasn’t the best with socializing, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t normal.

“Oh, guess you don’t want to have any friends, huh? Maybe I was right, maybe you are boring…” She completely let go of him and turned around. “I guess I’ll just _leave_ then.” She started stomping her feet, though obviously not moving anywhere. Adrien watched as she threw several surreptitious glances over her shoulder, completely confused. Eventually, she gave up the ruse and turned back to Adrien, hands crossed over her chest and pout on her face. “Hey! Do you wanna be friends or not?”

“I do!” he replied hurriedly, hands held up in surrender.

“Then you gotta promise me. Marriage or you’ll be lonely for-ev-er.” She punctuated every syllable of her last word with a wave of her arms, and Adrien didn’t really see any way out of this. He wanted to be her friend! He had never seen another kid around here. He couldn’t let this chance go.

“Okay. We can get married, but we have to be at least twenty first.” He wasn’t quite sure how old people were when they got married, but twenty seemed super old. It would give him time to get out of it, probably.

Chloe just squealed, jumping up and down and giggling before throwing herself into his arms again. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, smiling happily. “Then we’re friends now! _Best_ friends.”

Adrien thought this girl was kind of weird, but, well, the sound of those words weren’t that bad.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bratty Chloe reminds me of myself, but I sure hope I ended up a bit different.
> 
> And if you're wondering, her dress is something like this: http://www.jaksflowergirldresses.com/1020Y.jpg  
> Maybe a little poofier.


	3. Akuma/Hawk Moth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to post this using terrible airport wifi, and it failed, so it's a little bit late, but hey.

The butterfly swoops downwards, dancing gracefully through the air. Completely unaware, it is part of the creation of effervescent transient pictures in the inky darkness of the air that exist for a moment and nothing more. There is beauty in the soft glow they provide to the murky room, but they do not appreciate it. They were not made for that purpose. The butterfly stops flapping its wings for a moment, free falling through the air for a breathless second, a blur in the darkness, and then its wings pick up again, carrying the insect away and up once more.

A figure steps into the room, gazing through the portal with a cold fire burning in his eyes. The phosphorescent cloud parts for him instinctively, flying around and above but never too close. There is no reason for the avoidance, not really. The butterflies are used to his presence. He is just another existence in the room, another dash of color to their ever-changing unseen picture, and yet they are aware that he is different. They do not feel the hate, the anger, the pain that rolls off of him in waves, but they still do not approach him. There is a barrier around him, a wall that cannot be surmounted.

But when he opens his hand, invites them in, the butterfly comes. Like many things it does, there is no reason for it. The butterflies do not use reason, or emotion. They don’t understand it.

But when he closes his hand, it feels it. A dark, twisting claw wrenches its way into its being, and it can do nothing but feel it. Its entire being is changed, its glow stolen and replaced with a mockery of what it used to be, purple and putrid and full of the negativity in the world. They always leave, after that. Not because he asks, but because they have no other choice. The dark light they emanate destroys the monochromatic picture of the room, and they no longer belong. The akuma are the shadows of the butterflies, the mirror reflection, and they are simply a misplaced cog trying to find the machine to which they belong. So it flies away, escaping through the opening provided for it.

The akuma lives an inverse life, having lost its place in the world. It takes refuge where it feels that it fits, among the negativity for which it was spawned. The cog is shoved into a new machine, and it fits, but not quite. The machine is not improved, but it is changed, and the negativity reverberates until something breaks.  
And then the machine is shattered, and the akuma is shoved out again. But as soon as it is shoved out, it finds enclosure again, in a bed of light. For the second time in its inconsequential life, the butterfly experiences a complete transformation. The white light curls around it in tendrils, bathing it in its purity and bleaching the negativity from its being. The light is so intense that the shadow is engulfed and comes out purer that before, glimmering even without the darkness of its previous home. It is white, and pure, but its being is still emotion. Love, light, happiness, forgiveness.

The butterfly flies away, a pawn in the chess game of beings it will never understand. But even without understanding, it feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought the butterflies are so beautiful and that the butterfly room is a lovely image. So I played with that.


	4. History of Ladybugs and Chat Noirs Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Greek Gods, can you tell? 
> 
> Can't say I actually know enough about history to do any period justice, but I know enough about art history to pretend I know about Ancient Greece.

He let out a low whistle, looking up at the giant bronze statue of Ladybug. She was wearing a mural crown and draped in cloth that looked nothing like her actual outfit, but made her look astoundingly like the goddess they had proclaimed her. At least they kept the spots.

“Chat Noir, please stop looking at it. It’s… embarrassing.”

He turned and grinned at her, laughing lightly. “I still can’t believe they elevated you to goddess status while still alive.”

“Our culture likes making important people gods. And I’m only really a minor goddess… It’s not a big deal.” She tried to brush it off, but there was still a small smile on her face that gave her away. “If an emperor’s lover can become a god, so can a superhero. At least I actually have powers.”

“But you’re still  _alive_ , and that’s the impressive part. Everyone realizes how amazing you are before you died. Quite an accomplishment, if I do say so myself.”

She reached out, ruffling his hair affectionately, and let her hand rest there. “You’ll be next, I’m sure.”

“Me? Oh no, I don’t need fortune and fame and to be revered as a god. I’m happy just doing the right thing. It’s its own reward, really.” He smiled up at her with a smile that screamed innocence. She smacked him on the head.

“Maybe they’ll make you a god of  _terrible liars_.”

He laughed at that and quickly shot back, “Maybe they’ll change your title to a goddess of  _can’t take a joke_.”

“Or maybe a god of  _insufferable idiots_?”

“Or a goddess of  _can’t say her true feelings_.”

She sobered up at that, letting her hand drop to his shoulder. She looked into his eyes, an intense look in her own. “You know I love you, right, Chat? I couldn’t do this without you. You’re so incredibly important.”

Chat Noir just smiled, taking her hand off his shoulder and clasping it in his own. “Ladybug, we both know that’s not true.”

She shook her head, frowning. “It  _is_. I need you. And everyone will realize it eventually. And then we’ll be gods together.” She squeezed his hand and finally smiled at him, exuding an easy confidence.

He gave in, squeezing back. “Of course.”

She nodded, and then turned the conversation to something lighter. “I wonder who they’ll say my relations are? Tyche, probably…”

“Ah, I was going to say Aphrodite!”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, definitely not.”

“So you wouldn’t say you’re a lovebug?”

She glared at him for the terrible joke, and he jumped out of the way of her hand as she reached out to smack him again. “No, come back here, that was a terrible joke.”

He kept just out of her reach, dancing out the way the second she got too close. “You’ll never get followers for your cult if you’re going to be so mean to those who were only trying to compliment you.”

He finally stopped and she caught him, tapping him on his forehead halfheartedly. “I don’t need a cult. I’m happy just doing the right thing. It’s its own reward, really,” she parroted, causing him to laugh again.

“Ladybug, you wound me. I think I prefer the bronze version. She can’t talk back to me.”

She glanced over at the bronze statue, lumbering over the area with a devilish grin. “She can’t save the city either,” she replied, looking up at Chat with her own version of the same grin.

At that time, a crash resounded through the agora, and both Ladybug and Chat Noir shared a look. “Speaking of…”

“Let’s go, Chat!” yelled Ladybug, already bounding away. Chat looked back at the statue again, a smile on his face, and then he ran off to join Ladybug. The people of Greece would worship the bronze superhero, but he would always prefer the real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look up Antinous, if you're wondering about the man who was elevated to a god just because the emperor was in love with him, haha.


	5. Puns

“It’s called Kittify,” Alya repeats, and Marinette looks at her with a look of mock horror.

“And it just makes puns.”

“Not just any puns. Cat puns.”

“My god, that’s horrifying. Show me,” exclaimss Marinette, crowding her friend and leaning to see the screen of the other girl’s phone. Alya pulls it away, shooting Marinette a look.

“Look, but don’t touch,” she says warily.

“Alya!” cries Marinette, feeling betrayed. “The trash thing was an accident.”

“In a line of accidents. We both know you’re a walking disaster.”

“I don’t think I can apologize any more…”

Alya just laughs, sliding the phone back over so Marinette can see it this time. But just to be safe, Marinette tucks her hands away beneath the table. “Don’t you mean a- _paw_ -logize?” she says with a smirk, and Marinette groans.

“Why cat puns, of all things?” she asks, but she’s still looking down at the screen, at which Alya is tapping away dutifully. Alya navigates away from the site, looking for something to copy and paste into the generator, and Marinette briefly wonders if Chat Noir had ever found this site. She shudders, hoping the answer to that was no.

“I’m putting the national anthem in.”

“How unpatriotic of you,” comments Marinette, but she leans over to read the result anyway. “Pawlotting kings? Oh, that’s almost painful.”

“No, no, look- long purrepurred irons!” Alya snickers.

“Your purrricidal pawlans will finally pay the purrice!” reads Marinette, trying to sing to the tune but finding herself giggling too much.

“Lipurrty! Beloved Lipurrty!” choruses Alya, and it’s finally too much for the two girls. They dissolve into a heap of giggles and snickers, the terrible puns having taken two more victims. Their impromptu reading and resulting laughter attracted the attention of some of the other classmates already in the room, and Nino finally approaches them with Adrien in tow.

“What’s going on over here?” asks Nino, eyeing the two giggling girls suspiciously. Alya just smirks and hands her phone over, mutters “Lipurrty” to Marinette again, and the two begin their laughter anew. Adrien glances over Nino’s shoulder, trying to figure out what had the two so entertained, and his eyes light up as he sees what it is.

A site entirely dedicated to cat puns. The holy grail.

“Hey Nino, can I see that?” he asks, trying desperately to keep his cool. But he can’t help the large, cat-like grin that takes over his face as he views the site. Oh, he was so trying this at home.

A few weeks later, Ladybug winces as Chat delivers a particularly bad pun. “Your pun quantity has increased lately.”

“Ah, are you surpurrised?” he asks with a Chesire grin.

“I’m leaving,” she huffs out, and then she does just that, running to the edge of the rooftop. But he didn’t miss the hint of fondness in her exasperated tone.

“These puns have left people in a laughing fit before, you know!” he calls after her, running to the edge but not leaping off after her.

“They have a terrible sense of humor!” she yells back, and his mind jumps to the image of Marinette and Alya red-faced with laughter. He wants to defend his friends, but by the time he readies himself for a response, Ladybug is too far away to hear it.

Next time, then.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you google kittify, you should be able to find this amazing piece of technology.
> 
> My drabbles are now a bit late (like a day) and a bit shorter because of homework, but honestly I didn't think I'd have time to write anything. So!


	6. Evil!Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is late! I have explanations but they're mostly unimportant so please accept my humble offering of evil superheroes.

Chat Noir stood paralyzed, watching as Ladybug stalked towards him. Except it wasn't Ladybug. Not anymore. He didn't know how it happened, but he could tell. Her eyes were different. Her eyes, which once shone with kindness, wit, and bravery, were now dulled and twisted. They glinted, ice cold and razor sharp, and he found himself shivering and pining for the warmth he so dearly loved.  

“Aw, kitty, don't be so scared,” she crooned, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from the touch and she immediately pulled back, looking hurt. For a moment he wanted to apologize, but he swallowed it down. 

_This is not Ladybug. This is not Ladybug. This is not Ladybug._

He pulled his baton out, lifting it up weakly and trying not to look her in the eye. 

She looked at him with pity, lips forming a perfect pout. “It's me, Chat. Don't fight me. Please.” Her hand grabbed his, and slowly lowered it and pried the baton from his grasp. “There's a good kitty,” she whispered as she finally had the weapon away from him. She flung it off the rooftop. He could only stare in mute horror. 

He needed to stop her. He needed to at least  _move_. But as she pinned him with her too-blue gaze and too-cold smile, he could only whimper. 

“Chat,” she whispered, her voice full of the affection he had always longed for, and Chat Noir felt his stomach seize at the absolute wrongness of the sound on her lips. He stumbled backwards, tripping over himself to get away, but she pursued. She pinned him down, her grace overcoming his stumbling confusion easily. She placed one knee on either side of him, one palm gently pressing against his chest, and looked down at her newly captive audience fondly. 

“Is your love for me really that fickle?” she asked, caressing his cheek with a single finger. The movement felt like a knife slicing his skin. 

“You're not Ladybug,” he managed to force out, and her face immediately broke into a smile. 

“Yes, I am. Chat, don't you recognize me? You promised you'd find me anywhere.”

For a moment, he saw the real Ladybug shining through, warm eyes and concerned gaze and a hand lovingly cupping his cheek. The image shattered as he looked into her eyes and felt ice pierce his heart. But it wasn’t gone. The picture was seared into his mind, it burned behind his eyelids and every time he blinked he saw Ladybug, the one he loved. He felt cold and twisted inside but he found he couldn't refuse even the icy echo of his lady. 

As he nodded, she broke into a lovely smile and wrapped her arms around him in a crushing hug. He sat up, and she let him, cradling his head against her chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist. His hands went to her hips and he wondered why he couldn't hear her heartbeat. 

“Chat, I need you. Please.” Her voice was low and full of need. 

He looked up at his lady, and though his entire being was screaming to run, fight, get away, his heart saw the love of his life pleading for his help. So he numbly whispered, “Okay.”

She smiled, and slowly brought her sugary sweet lips down onto his. He had wanted and dreamed for this moment for so long that he closed his eyes and let himself pretend. She kissed him deeply and passionately and possessively and he burned, a wildfire consuming him and destroying whatever resistance he had left. He was putty in her hands, and she knew it. 

She pulled back for a breath but he kept his eyes down, not willing to look into her eyes and see the chilly void now residing there. He surged forward again after only a moment, drowning his confusion and hurt in want and need and her. She tangled her hands in his hair and tilted her head, pulling him closer. His hands roamed the lines of her body with an almost possessive fervor and somewhere amidst the heat of her mouth and the feeling of her body on his he lost himself. The next time she pulled back for a breath he met her cold eyes with his own, ice reflecting ice. 

“Oh Chat,” she said, voice husky and smile devilish. “I'm so glad you see it my way.”

He pulled her close, kissing her roughly and eliciting a slight gasp from the girl. “Anything for my lady,” he whispered against her lips. 

She grinned. “We have so much to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evil is like mono, it spreads through kissing. Everyone knows that.


	7. Ladynoir/Adrinette/Marichat/Ladrien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scenario is post-reveal, established!Adrinette, in case you're wondering.

“Why do we have to do this?” Marinette asks, releasing her transformation. She glances around the closet they've pushed themselves into, a small frown settling on her face. Tikki just pats her head, trying to comfort her miraculous holder. 

In contrast, Adrien grins as his own transformation releases. “Are you saying you don't want to?” He enters Marinette's personal space, looking down at her smugly. Plagg looks like he's about to say something, but Tikki tugs him off to go hide. 

“I don't want to purposely get caught,” she shoots back, but her face reddens at the knowing smile on Adrien's face. She scoots away slightly. 

“People are beginning to suspect something. We have to throw them off.”

“Do we have to do....  _this_?” Marinette gestures to the closet around them, trying to illustrate her point. 

Adrien just moves closer to her, twirling one finger through her hair. “You've never had a problem kissing me before,” he teases, and she crosses her arms stubbornly as she moves away again. 

“That was never in a closet, and we never had an audience.”

He leans in, and Marinette realizes she's trapped against the wall. Adrien stops right before his lips touch hers and whispers, “If you want me to stop, I will.”

But despite her protests, she does nothing to stop him as his lips meet hers. She melts into the kiss, like she has every kiss ever since they had revealed their identities. He pushes her up against the wall for easier access to her mouth, and she wraps herself around him almost on reflex. She loses track of time and place as she becomes completely absorbed in Adrien's hair and Adrien's hands and Adrien's body and Adrien's lips and Adrien's tongue and when the door to the closet opens she doesn't notice until she hears the collective gasp of her classmates. 

At the sound, she freezes for a second and then in a flurry of movement and limbs she manages to push Adrien to the other side of the small space and right herself, standing on her own two feet. 

Adrien asks sheepishly, "So, is the attack over?" while Marinette tries to fix her hair and right her shirt.Sshe realizes that they had maybe gotten a little _too_  into it. She glances over at Adrien and sees that he's just as much a mess as she is, and her face feels like it actually bursts into flame. 

There are several moments of silence before she hears Nino ask "Is  _this_  why you two always disappear during attacks?"

Marinette stutters out a horrified "N-no!" despite that being the very reason they had arranged to be caught in the first place. 

But no one seems to believe her anyway, and she hears the crowd dispersing. Adrien is dragged away by Nino, leaving Marinette with a smile much too close to a smirk. 

Alya walks up to her, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, and with a shit eating grin plastered on her face. She doesn't say anything, but Marinette hears it loud and clear nonetheless. 

"We can talk later. Much later. Maybe in a few years," says Marinette as she marches off towards class.

Alya just laughs, slinging her arm around her best friend.  "Oh, there's no way you're getting out of this."

Marinette's blush deepens again. She doesn't think it'll ever go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write this scenario myself for a while, but it's not exactly my original idea. I saw it a few times floating around, so it's kind of just a fandom idea in general.
> 
> That being said, I hope closet makeout fics become a fandom staple.


End file.
